Dissociation
by eely
Summary: It's hard letting go of a friend because they were hurting you, but what do you do when that friend and you are the same person? Based on Civil War America and Joanna Navid's "Wonderland." AU.


AN: this is sorta based on the civil war because america was divided into the united states and the confederate states and also i read joanna navids "wonderland" and wow i got inspiration

i do not own hetalia

yeah alford is a real name i looked it up

xxx

"I don't know how you got this way, Alfie."

Every word stung him. Every syllable stung him. Or what was left of him.

Matthew let out a sigh and rested his forehead on his hand. It was almost like he didn't want to make eye contact with him. For fear it wasn't him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Alfred said, looking straight at Matthew. Thinking that if he stared hard enough, his gaze would burn through him and force eye contact.

"There's nothing wrong." Alford said.

Alfred looked over at him. It was strange, Alford nearly looked exactly like him. But he was so different, not afraid to insult people. Alfred on the other hand, was still extroverted, but was a little nervous to say things he meant. Oh, how he wished he could be Alford.

Matthew took a deep breath. He could tell there was something wrong with his twin. He just didn't know what it was. Up until a few months ago, he was fine. But now it was like he changed. He wasn't the same. At least, not all the time. He would come home, four in the morning, stumbling around the house, cigarette and booze in his hands. He never did any of those things before. Not until recently. Sure, there'd be the occasional time where he'd go out with friends, come home around 2am. But never in that state. From what Matthew could gather, he also did this on school nights.

Alfred and Matthew didn't live in the same house. Alfred lived with their dad, and Matthew with their mom. They stayed at each others' houses on the weekends. Lately, Matthew didn't feel like going, for obvious reasons.

"I don't know why you even called me here. I'm leaving." Alford got up, and began walking out the door. Alfred raised an eyebrow at this. Matthew didn't invite Alford, just Alfred. Alford simply tagged along. Matthew didn't even acknowledge Alford's existence. He didn't mind, though, and he'd rather be in the company of his friend than his worrying brother. Or at least he thought he did.

"Alfred, wait!" Matthew tried to shout, but it didn't come out as anything other than a whisper. They were both out the door anyway.

They were about halfway to his father's house when Alford stopped suddenly.

"God, I wish you'd tell 'im not to bother you so much. He's so meddlesome." he said, lighting a cigarette.

Alfred rocked back and forth on his feet. "I don't know..."

Alford held out the cig, asking if Alfred wanted a hit off it. He took one and handed it back.

"...He's my brother, I can't really blame him for being worried."

"Even when there's nothing to worry about?"

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He wasn't really sure if there was something to worry about or not. He'd never seen Matthew so worked up about something before, nor Alford so quick to deny anyone's statements.

"Yeah...There's nothing...I'm going home." Alfred began walking ahead, leaving Alford standing there alone. He looked back, wondering if he'd find him angry, but instead he wasn't there. He had disappeared. He was always doing things like that. Disappearing, then just suddenly appearing. Like something imaginary.

xxxx

It had been two weeks since Matthew sat down with Alfred. He sighed, flipped through his Chemistry textbook, not really looking for the page he was supposed to be working on.

After a few hours of frustration and half-paying attention, he closed his textbook and decided to work on it tomorrow. He unplugged his lamp and layed down in bed. He was finally starting to get sleepy when he heard a faint voice in Alfred's room, sounding agitated. It was hard for Matthew to go to sleep anyway, thanks to his narcolepsy, but now Alfred's shenanigans are keeping him up. He decided to investigate.

He opened the door, without knocking. He didn't really care if Alfred was doing something private, he just wanted to go to sleep.

"What the hell are you doing in here, Al?" he asked, trying to sound as rude as possible.

"Nothing! I'm just...talking to myself." Alfred answered, halfway out the window.

"...You're talking to yourself in different voices, while leaning out the window? Christ Al, if you're talking to yourself you should be muttering, not shouting out the window. I can hear you in my room." Matthew leaned against the door.

"Sorry." Alfred snapped. He then looked out of the window, his face looking like he was accusing the ground of saying it.

Matthew sighed and put his hand on the doorknob. "Just hush, will you? Some people are trying to sleep."

"Not like you sleep anyway, dumbshit." he said. He widened his eyes and glared out the window again.

"Al, if you're so mad at the ground, close the window. Go to sleep." Matthew groaned, closing the door and walking back to his room.

Alfred locked his door. He stepped over by the window and leaned out of it.

"You didn't have to say that, you know. I don't need Matt mad at me, too." he whispered.

"Hey, man, it wasn't me. Those words came outta your mouth." Alford said, smiling up at him before walking away.

Alfred let out a groan and slammed the window shut, and locked it. He turned out the light and got into bed.

"Just go away. Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, I never want to see you again."

xxx

It was almost painful for Alfred to pass Ivan and Toris in the halls. Even moreso to pass his little sister, Natayla, who shot daggers at him with her eyes. "Why are they mad at me?" He'd ask out loud. "I didn't do anything to them."

"Yeah, but I did." There was Alford again.

"I told you to go away." Alfred said, rolling over on the grass, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Can't get rid a me that easily. And besides, whaddya you care? So I kissed Ivan that one time and Toris saw me. It's not like it broke them up. They're probably closer than ever now. I think I did something good for their relationship!" he said with a smile.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, still refusing to look at him. "Yeah, well they're mad at me. We look alike, they all probably thought you were me. And I can't explain to them, they won't even stop for me."

"Good. Who cares what they think, anyway?" Alford muttered, lighting a cigarette.

"You can't do that here, you'll get yelled at."

"No one ever notices me, man. I do this all the time."

The two sat there in silence.

"Yo, hold this for me will ya?" said the meaner of the two, the one Alfred wished would just leave him alone already.

Alfred held his hand out, and Alford placed the cigarette in between his fingers. He saw Matthew approaching him. He closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"Hey, Alfie. It's time to go home." he said, staring at the cigarette in his hands. "You might want to give that up. It's bad for your health."

Alfred was wondering what he was talking about, then glanced at the cigarette he was holding.

"Oh, gosh, Matt, uh, it's not mine it's..." he sat up, about to gesture to Alford, only to find his companion nowhere to be found. He squinted, trying to see in the bright sunlight where he could have ran off to. He saw nothing.

"And he left me with his damn cigarette, too..." he mumbled, putting it out on his shoes.

Matthew looked at him strangely.

"Well, whatever. Come on, you can't lie around forever," Matthew began, extending his arm to help Alfred up.

Alfred took it, and stood up. They walked the rest of the way in silence, until Alfred began to hear footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw Alford following him, smoking another cigarette.

"Gee, way to leave me there all alone." he grouched, shooting a dirty look at his near-identical friend.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted me to go away, yeah?" the other replied.

Alfred turned away from him and continued walking. It was a Wednesday, so Alfred and Matthew had to go separate ways home. He didn't usually mind, since he had Alford, but now it almost scared him. Whatever statement Alford had to offer that way home, Alfred pretended not to hear.  
"What, ya got a stick in your ass or somethin'? Jesus, lighten up, would ya?" he finally asked, punching Alfred in the shoulder.

"Can you not?" Alfred snapped back, rubbing his shoulder.

Alford scoffed. "Whatever." he said, closing his eyes and walking away.

xxx

Three days. Three days ago was the last time he saw Alford. He remembered around July, when he first showed up after a few years of being gone, he promised he'd always come back. That they'd be friends for life. He even had it in writing. Alfred turned to the page in the notebook it was written on. He read it over and over and began to realize even their handwriting looked alike. He wrote his qs with the same curl at the end, and his ys almost looked like xs. Exactly how Alfred wrote. He tossed the notebook across the room, trying to push the realization out of his mind. He had a headache.

"Maybe if I eat something, I'll feel better." he heard the voice of Alford say. He looked around, but he was nowhere to be found, until his eyes checked the window. There he was, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, smiling.

"Why? You look fine, it's me that's got the headache." Alfred said, glaring.

"How d'ya know that, huh? Anyway, I guess I was pretending to be your thoughts or somethin'. Ya look pretty bad." the other said, taking a drink.

Alfred decided this was not a safe environment for his headache, he got up and spent as much time downstairs as he could, trying to avoid him. He stayed home sick, today. He heard bumping and something falling off the shelf near the stairs.

"Oh, God dammit." he said to himself. And soon enough, Alford was there, stumbling around his kitchen.

"Come on man, hurry up. Can't take ya that long to eat somethin'."

Alfred decided it was best not to answer him and grab a sandwich out of the fridge. His dad had made it for him in the morning, probably. He had devoured it in about 30 seconds.

"Damn, aren't _you_ hungry?" Alford said, admiring his speed.

Alfred stomped upstairs. "Just get out of my house."

"Whatever, you're comin' with me later, y'know." Alford said, following him and then making his way to the window.

"Where are we going?" Alfred said, not really caring.

"Oh...Out." Alford said before dropping down the side of the house, landing perfectly on his feet. One of the few things Alfred taught him.

Alfred stuffed his face into his pillow and let out a scream.

xxx

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I stayed home sick, and then suddenly I'm well enough to go out? My dad's gonna lose trust in me, dude, I'll never be able to do anything ever again." Alfred ranted to his passenger.

"Man, who cares? It's not like he'll be back until late anyway." Alford laughed.

Alfred sighed. They eventually arrived at their destination, a hangout near some Italian restaurant Alfred never bothered to learn the name of. He got out of the car and lazily closed the door. He didn't feel like being here, today.

He tried to stick close to Alford, but he eventually lost him, like he usually did. He decided that since he was here, he might as well drink. Four vodkas later, he was stumbling around, not really causing trouble, but not keeping himself out of it, either.

xxx

It was around 4am when he woke up in his bed. He didn't really remember getting there, but it didn't matter. At least he got home. Just in time to hear bumps and thumps up the stairs.

Alford.

He knew his dad would be home by now, and he was a pretty light sleeper, so naturally, Alfred feared for his and Alford's life.

"Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up,_ please don't wake up..._" he repeated, imagining his father's locked door in the darkness. The door opened. It was Alford.

"...Hey." he said, drooling a little.

"Hi. Where have you been?" Alfred asked.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, chill, would ya, Al? You're soundin' like your dad." he began, "It's not even like it's important. You're just too much of a goody-two shoes to follow me. And don't make the excuse that you lost me. What am I, your mommy?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes at him. "You don't have to say it like that."

"But I do, man. If it weren't for me you wouldn't be who you are right now. Think. Few months ago, you were fine. People liked ya, yeah? But you couldn't ever do shit for yourself, hear me? Y'always got other people to do if for ya. Dressed like a loser, too, dude. Come on, even Gilbert knows suspenders look stupid." Alford complained.

"Alright, you can stop now."

"No, I can't! Because ya don't get it. Ya can't fuckin' see that you meant jack shit to the world before me. Now more people notice you. Sure some don't like ya, but who cares? You've got attention, but ya can't seem to hold onto it for five minutes. Stop acting like such a pussy bitch." he was picking at his fingernails. Alfreds fingertips started itching. He picked up a pillow and threw it at him.

"Knock it off." he demanded.

"Not until ya realize that what I'm sayin's trueeee." Alford replied in a sing-song voice, grinning.  
Alfred stood up and began pushing him toward the window.

"Get out! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" he yelled.

"Jesus Christ, I'm goin', I'm goin'!" Alford cried back, climbing out and jumping down from the window.

"I hate you!" Alfred screamed at him.

"Fuckin' fine then! I don't give a shit if ya hate me! I'm not leavin' you all alone!" the meaner of the two yelled back.

Alfred's door opened and his father ran in, pulling him away from the window.

"I hate you and I never want to see you again!" Alfred screamed one last time before his father slammed the window shut.

His dad grabbed him by the shoulders, telling him to calm down and take deep breaths. It was a few minutes until he spoke again.

"Son, what the hell are you doing? You haven't been home all day, it's four in the morning, and you're just now getting home and screaming at yourself through the window?" his father asked sternly.

Alfred looked away from him, over at the door. He was going to say he wasn't yelling at himself, he wasn't crazy, but he couldn't let his dad know about Alford.

"Sorry." he mumbled.

"You better be sorry, at least for what you're doing to yourself," he looked at the booze in his son's hand, "Give me that," he said, gesturing to it.

"What?" Alfred queried, looking back at his dad, then at his hand.

"I don't- Dad, this isn't-" he tried to explain it wasn't his, and that he had no idea how he had it, that Alford must've left it there, and he grabbed it to throw it at him but he didn't have the chance, but his stern parental figure wasn't buying it. He handed it over.

His dad took it from him and made his way toward the door.

"Son, if somethin's bothering you, you know I'll always talk to you about it..." he sounded sad as he said this.

"Alright." Alfred replied, laying down in bed. His father closed the door.

He thought about what his dad had said. About how he could talk to him about it. But he couldn't. His dad would disapprove of his actions. Not telling him that Alford had came back. His dad never liked him, said he was a bad influence. And maybe he was.

He turned onto his side. Alfred wasn't even sure if Alford was his friend anymore, he couldn't tell who he was half the time.

He wasn't sure who he himself was, either. It was like Alford had worked his way into his mind, and refused to leave. He remembered feeling this way those few years ago, before Alford left. He decided that tomorrow he'd go visit him and talk to him about it, and put an end to his misery.

xxx

He was glad his dad let him stay home today. Although he wasn't really home. He felt bad for faking, but he had something important he had to do. He made his way to where Alford said he was residing. It was strange, Alford always came to his house, but it was never the other way around. This area of town almost felt like a different world. He walked up the doorstep of his friend's home. It was pretty run down, one-story, a few rooms, and it looked like the roof was going to fall in any second. Maybe the fragile state of the house was what kept him from knocking. He looked into the windows instead, and saw no traces of Alford. Boring housekeeping magazines, water bottles, and a bookshelf full of A-Z encyclopedias. The interiors were very nicely decorated. He got a little confused, but didn't knock on the door afterward, since it appeared no one was home.

"Knew ya couldn't stay away." he heard that familiar, condescending voice. He turned around and there stood Alford at the corner of the house, smoking a cigarette.

"I didn't come here so you could play mind games with me. And this isn't even your house. Unless you've taken up a liking for interior design." Alfred crossed his arms in an attempt to look like he meant business.

Alford laughed and put out his cigarette on the side of the house. "Yeah, alright, ya got me. This ain't my house."

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Where do you live, then?" he asked, now curious.

"Man...I live at your house, dude." he made a face that said, "Duh."

"...No you don't. You're not ever there, of course you don't live there." Alfred replied.

Alford laughed again. "Neither are you, Al."

Alfred groaned and clutched his head. He didn't have time for this, nor the energy.

"Just...Who are you, Alford? I don't even know you anymore." he asked, his voice breaking.

Alford put his head down and looked at his shoes. He took a few steps toward Alfred and then looked up.

"I'm you." he said, making sure he was making eye contact.

Alfred blinked.

"What?"

Alford chuckled and looked away, a distant, sad look in his eyes.

"I'm you, Alfred."

Alfred shook his head. "No, no no. I mean i-"

"I'm you, dammit. God, listen to me. Are you fuckin' stupid? Take a look. I look exactly like you and no one has ever addressed me by name. Or at all." Alford said.

Alfred reached out and touched the other's face. Same face shape. Same ears. Same nose. Same eyes. Same freckles. Same hair. They were exactly the same. Alfred's eyes widened.

"No, I...people like you better. I just hide behind you, not...really doing much..."

"Exactly! Because you're not you. You're me. And I'm you."

Alfred shook his head and looked at his shoes. He recalled that he and Alford shared the same shoe size.

"But I'm standing here talking to you right now! I can see you!" he cried.

"Haven't you ever heard of 'talking to yourself'? A lot of people do it, Alfred." Alford answered.

Alfred thought back to when he lost Alford in crowded places. Watched him do things, say things to people he would never say himself, not doing anything about it. How he could clearly imagine Alford doing things that hurt people. That wasn't Alford who came up the stairs making noise at four in the morning. That was him. It wasn't Alford who kissed Ivan right in front of Toris. It was him.

He looked up.

"...A-Arthur?" the name barely made it out of his mouth.

Alford nodded.

He remembered the exact scenario. The memory Alfred had been pushing out of his memory since it happened. Alford pushed Arthur to the ground, calling him insults that Alfred had given up saying. He remembers seeing Alford push him to the ground and step on him. Alfred remembered not being able to do anything, like his entire body was frozen.

He was the one who stepped on Arthur. He was the reason so many people had started to stay away from him. Except it wasn't him. It was Alford, wasn't it?

He looked up and found him gone. He sort of felt some new sort of energy flowing through his body, and he ran home.

xxx

He laid on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, not really seeing. His vision was blurry from all the tears.

He dragged himself over to his desk and opened his laptop, trying to search for what was wrong with him.

He typed "being more than one person" into the google search bar, and he was greeted with a bunch of polygamy results, so he put quotes around his query. He had to try a few more different ways of wording it, but he eventually found what he was looking for, and he clicked on the Wikipedia article for "Dissociative Identity Disorder."

_"**Dissociative identity disorder (DID)**, also known as multiple personality disorder (MPD), is a mental disorder characterized by at least two distinct and relatively enduring identities or dissociated personality states that alternately control a person's behavior, and is accompanied by memory impairment for important information not explained by ordinary forgetfulness."_

He kept reading different articles about it until he had believed that's what he was experiencing for real. The only question he was left with was very simple.

Why?

He thought of back to when Matthew's and his parents first divorced. He thought of how he felt something was missing from his life. How Alford just walked into his life suddenly, filling the void. Alford always seemed to push him around, even when he was just nine years old. Then he suddenly disappeared one day. He moved away. He remembers it was around the time he was going to accept his parents' separation. Until a few months ago, everything was fine.

Then there was the fight. His dad, mom, and Matthew were screaming at each other, his mother and Matthew driving away angry and his father nursing his emotional wounds with alcohol. The day after, Alford had walked up to him on school grounds. He was happy to be reunited with him, though things progressively got worse. Even with Alford around, nothing got better, his friends grew concerned about them. And they had every right to.

"So what are you going to do about me now, Alfred?" he heard Alford's voice say. Alfred closed his eyes.

"You're coming with me, tonight." he finally said.

He could feel Alford's concern. "Where?" he asked him, his voice almost fearful.

Alfred turned around to the image of Alford his own mind was projecting and smiled.

"Out."

xxx

Alfred drove out to the train tracks, Alford asking him questions the entire way, Alfred not answering him. They both knew the answer.

Alfred and Alford stood at the train tracks, not really waiting, just standing. They soon heard the faint noise of a train in the distance, and soon saw the light through the rain.

"If you're gonna kill yourself, do somethin' more flashy than jump in front of a train, dude. Gotta get more creative than that." Alford said to Alfred.

Alfred smiled and looked down at the ground.

"That's one thing I still love about you, Alford," he took a step forward, as did Alford, "you're always one step ahead of me."

He took one step as the train rushed by him, a step behind Alford. The speed of the train pushed him backwards and onto the cold, hard ground, and he felt Alford being slammed into by the front of the train, and it felt as if all the air was knocked out of him, all the life leaving his body as he hit the ground, and Alford the train.

He soon passed out in the rain, someone later got out of their car and called 911.

xxx

It was a very bright room. White walls. Alfred closed his eyes again and groaned. It was too bright.

Matthew lifted his head and stared at him, wondering if what he saw was true. He walked over to Alfred and tapped him lightly.

Alfred opened his eyes again, slower this time, to adjust to the light.

"Hey..." he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Oh my God." Matthew widened his eyes and ran out of the room and called some people in. Alfred could gather that he was at the hospital, but something felt different. He felt...sort of free. Like there was something chaining him to a wall and it was gone now.

xxx

Nothing's ever completely gone, even after you forget about it. It had been a few months since Alfred's accident, and he was feeling a lot better. He sometimes mumbled to himself, but that was just it. To himself. He would have sudden mood changes, and sometimes Alford would appear in his dreams, but only that. He no longer felt like he had to try to suppress Alford, like he did those few hours before passing out. Nothing ever felt like it was going to come up. He was going to therapy every Thursday, and it was working, something he didn't expect. He felt like a full person again, not having to worry about as many things. The situation had been explained to others, and he could only hope they found it in their hearts to forgive him. It seems they did, Ivan, Toris, Natayla, and Arthur had begun to speak to him again, and did so comfortably. There was the occasional worry here and there, but Alfred had confidence that he could overcome what had happened to him.

xxx

AN: im really sorry about that ending i dont know what im doing really


End file.
